“…Eyeballs…” Book II: 15. The Musician
Hey! You Got Eyeballs In There?
By Kate Chamberlin
As Grace grows up, some of her stories are happy, some trying, some enlightening, and a few themes are sad, but, they’re all the warp and woof of what goes into the tapestry of life we call Family. The daily living skills and techniques demonstrated by the fictional characters in these stories are valid, tried and true.
Book II: The Teenagers
#10. Bad News
#11. Grace’s Day One
#12 Knight With Shining Flatware
#13. The Locker Fiasco
#14. Lost In Thought
#15. The Musician
The rolling thunder never penetrated Ken’s sound proof room in his parent’s basement. Sound didn’t get
In and sound didn’t get out. Each morning at 4:00 AM, he’d come down to be with the love of his life: his music. One morning he’d strum his classical guitar; another morning wail on his trumpet; still another morning blow his slide trombone. Music was in his soul and came out his fingers. He’d loose himself deep into a parallel universe.
The buzz of the intercom brought him back to his basement studio. Ken went up for breakfast. The smell of bacon, French toast, and clover honey wrapped around him like a cozy quilt of earthly wonders.
“Thanks, Mom,” Ken said. “This sure smells great. It’s later than I thought. Dad’s already left for work?”
“Yes,” she said with a smile. “You’d left the music room door ajar, so he came down to listen to you for a spell. We were commenting on how much you’ve improved since you were three-years old, scratching away with Suzuki on that junior sized violin.”
“I think it is high time you threw out that embarrassing tape of me,” Ken grimaced. “Does Aunt Genny want me to stop in before school?”
“No. my sister has a pile of mail to go through,” his Mom said. “But, it’ll wait until after school. You’re running a little late. I don’t want you to do any speeding in Stang.”
Ken’s day was off to a great start, he mused as the hot shower relaxed his tall, lean body. Towel drying his curly, dark brown hair, he looked forward to his classes. This was his senior year, taking several AP courses at the Eastman School of Music. The scholarship he’d been awarded would enable him to attend Summer courses before attending full-time in the Fall.
Stang was a white, ‘78 Mustang with a variety of rusty “beauty marks”, but, it was transportation and he took good care of it. This morning, he wore his khaki slacks and a pale tan Polo shirt. His Mom liked the preppy look and he thought the colors looked good with Stang’s red leatherette interior.
He arrived at school, after his AP course at the Eastman, in time for lunch. He noticed a Golden Retriever with a harness on in the lunch line. He knew it for what it was: a working dog. When the girl’s lunch tray slipped off the slide rails, he knew exactly what her problem was. His Aunt Jenny was legally blind, so he often picked up things for her. As a matter of fact, He’d be reading her mail to her after school. He saw the girl bend over to pick up the tray and bash her head on the way down. He picked up the tray for her and said, “The tray is in front of you now.”
When they got to the end of the serving line, he guessed at her predicament and said, “It looks like you need three hands. Would you like me to carry your tray to a table?”
“Thanks,” the girl mumbled. “I think that would be the safest thing to do under the circumstances. Do you see where Heather went?”
Ken had been in Heather’s sights before and she made him feel uncomfortable. He also knew what a user she could be.
“Yes,” Ken answered in his low baritone. “But, there are no more chairs at that table. Would you sit with me at another table?”
Ken laughed when she told him, “Ok, but no guarantees about not dumping gravy in your lap.”
There was something that made him feel comfortable with this klutzy, blind girl
Copyright (C) 1996, 2016, 2017 by Kate Chamberlin
kathryngc1@verizon.net